Ragnarok
by Akuma no Tsubasa
Summary: The End of Ea. Dark, and Elrond-centric. Book-verse. Silmarillion knowledge helpful, but come read it anyway!
1. Vision of the Future to Be

Ragnarok

The End of Eä

                Yes, a Lord of the Rings fic.  New series for me, but the muse wouldn't leave, so I **had to humor it.  I'm also hoping to make my FFVII muse jealous enough to come back and help me on _Chi to Ase to Namida.  I'm trying, and __CAN _****is still a work-in-progress, so please bear with me.**

                This is what is known as "**fan fiction," so I obviously don't own the characters or places.  I ****do own the plot, however, and plagiarism will not be tolerated.  If you want to borrow events or post this fic on another site, just ask; I'll probably say yes.**

                This fic starts just prior to the bearers of the Three leaving Middle-Earth.  *ahem!*  That was obviously a spoiler.  If you haven't read all of _The Lord of the Rings and __The Silmarillion, **stay far away from this fic!  I doubt there will be any spoilers for **__The Hobbit.  Also, my absolute favorite character is Elrond, so look to see the Peredhil and their friends all over the place.  THIS IS BOOK-VERSE!_

                This will be a dark fic, violent, probably depressing, and (knowing me) may eventually contain some shounen-ai or slashy undertones.  I currently have *gasp* **no pairings set up for this fic, because the main plot is meant to operate independently to any sex, but please be advised that it may happen.**

A note:  If anyone knows of any good Sindarin or Quenya dictionaries, I would very much appreciate if you'd let me know.  I don't know if I'm ready to try writing in Elvish, yet, but I may eventually feel the urge, and I don't want to be spouting nonsense.  Especially since all I know right now is 'ada' and the prayer to Elbereth, and the meanings of most of the names of people and places.  So maybe I know a little, but help is still appreciated, especially if said dictionaries also have grammar.  Thank you and enjoy my sad little contribution to this amazing fandom!

Part One

Vision of the Future-to-Be

            Elrond Peredhil **knew it was a dream.  He did.  But knowledge did not let him escape it.  Indeed, this was one of only a very few dreams he found himself unable to wake from at will, as well as unable to influence.  Wearily, he turned to face the Dream, letting it say what it would.  As if his resolve had been a signal, the Dream rushed at him, forcing its way into every corner of his awareness, and the Dream Was.**

_            Imladris, from above.  Growing closer and closer until it swept past beneath.  Many miles of land also falling away behind, until Elrond at last alighted upon a familiar hill that was miles away from Imladris, but still considered part of that realm.  He remembered standing on this hill many times in the past, especially during the long years of the Last Alliance.  He saw his own back, touched it, and slid into his own 'body', joining with the events of the Dream._

_            Now it was as though the Dream had turned to a memory, for again he saw hosts of warriors, both Elves and Men, lined in ordered companies, arrayed as for war.  Yet this was different, for in the days of the Last Alliance, there had been companies of Men, and companies of Elves; here, they were all mixed together, many kinds of weaponry and armor, the colors of kingdoms long gone or lost or only just born.  There were even numerous Dwarves, several Ents, and what looked suspiciously like two Hobbits, one in the garb of the Rohirrim, and one in the uniform of the Tower Guard of Minas Tirith._

_            No Dream, then.  A Vision of the Future-to-Be._

_            "Yes," a deep voice said behind him, and Elrond turned.  A dark figure stood there, dark but splendid.  A Light was in his face, and his eyes were older than any Elf's, even those who woke by Cuiviénen, and his countenance was stern.  But Elrond knew this one, for often had Visions come to him when he was young, but that had been the First Age of the World, and the Valar had ceased to interfere in the affairs of Elves and Men in Arda since, save for the drowning of Beleriand._

_            "Námo," he whispered reverently, bowing.  The Doom-sayer shook his head impatiently._

_            "No, Child.  There is no time for formality, now.  Watch.  See this new thing which Eru has revealed to me."_

_            "Elrond!"  A golden voice lifted over the nervous rustling of many people in armor.  Elrond also knew this voice and turned to it, his spectral form shocked, but the Elrond in the Vision only smiled widely as the other Elf jogged up to him.  "Hey, you're facing the wrong way!  The army's that-a-way!"  The eyes in that pale golden face betrayed worry, but the good cheer in his voice was genuine._

_            "Gil-galad!"  He held his hand out to the long gone Elven King, who took it.  "I thought you were going to be fighting with the other part of the army."_

_            Intricately braided hair swirled in a halo as the High King shook his head.  "I promised that I wouldn't leave you to fight on your own again, didn't I?  I won't break that promise, Elrond.  Never."_

_            Elrond smiled and squeezed his King's hand.  "Well, then.  Shall we get to it, then?"_

_            Gil-galad nodded a grim light in his eyes.  "We will make the Enemy wish he had **never trifled with the people of Arda!"**_

_            Elrond-in-the-Future stepped forward, leaving Elrond-in-the-Now to face the Vala before him.  "What is going on here?" he demanded, knowing that he should perhaps be more polite, but too confused to care._

_            In theory, any Elf could return from the Halls of Mandos at any time, since they were still alive in them, but no one ever **did, save perhaps Glorfindel, and even that was unconfirmed, since Glorfindel avoided the topic with the utmost skill.  From what Námo had told him, Elrond guessed that to release the 'dead' Elves or those having fled to Valinor would have upset the balance of power in Eä, so no one was allowed back to Arda if they had gone to Valinor since the First Age.**_

_            Námo the Vala shook his ancient, yet ever-young head.  "Even Manwë and I do not know all that will ever come to pass.  Eru reveals what he will, when he will.  I have not received a new Vision from Eru in a long time, and I think not that I shall do so again."_

_            Curious, Elrond tipped his head.  "Why not?  Surely, as the Valar are more enduring than even the Eldar you will eventually be given new Visions."_

_            Námo shook his head.  "Let me show you."_

_            The Vision of the field in which that great Army was mustering vanished and was replaced by…  "I don't see anything," Elrond commented, straining his eyes.  There wasn't even light in this place.  "What is this?"_

_            "Nothing.  This," the ancient Vala's arms lifted to gesture expansively at the emptiness around them.  "Is **nothing.  It is the future I see now for Eä.  The near future."**_

_            Elrond ceased his efforts to see into the blankness and whirled to face the Doom-sayer.  "Do you mean…Eä is about to end?"_

_            "So it would seem."_

_            "Then what was that war?"_

_            "A closer bit of Future."_

_            "Why was Gil-galad there?  He fell facing Sauron over three thousand years ago."_

_            "Elrond."  The Vala seemed stern and sad and angry all at once, his use of Elrond's name betraying his feelings.  "Do you know how long I have known this new Vision?  Over a decade now, not so long, but long enough.  I had to beg Manwë to allow me to show you this, to show **anyone this.  For twelve years I have labored to gain permission to alert someone in Arda of this.  And all the while, the Seals on Mandos have crumbled, slowly, bit by bit, and the power of the Valar is no longer sufficient to keep all things out of Valinor.  News has come by way of birds, especially through those of your mother, of all that happened during the War of the Ring.  Now, some Elves in Mandos, and some who merely dwell in Valinor wish to return to Arda, to old homes and friends.  With the Seals broken, they may come and go as they desire.**_

_            "The first ship left Valinor this very season."_

_            Elrond knew it was not befitting of one counted amongst the greatest of Elven Lords to gape, but he'd just had too many shocks in this dream.  Vision.  Whatever._

_            Námo sighed.  "I have been forbidden to contact you more than once, Elrond Peredhil, but I feel you need to rest, to think on this.  Despite this, I **must show you all there is you need to know."  The Lord of Mandos paused a moment, thinking, weighing black thoughts, and Elrond did not grudge him the time.  He himself felt he could use a few decades getting used to the thought of all of Eä coming to an end.  All Elves knew it would happen eventually, and that their fates were unknown beyond the end of Eä, but living knowing you would never 'die', that you had 'eternity' to Be was not an easy habit to shake.**_

_            The Vala suddenly shook himself, drawing Elrond's eyes back to him.  "Come here, Child of Ilúvatar," he commanded, and Elrond was approaching before he had even considered it.  Just as he was about to stop, Námo reached out and caught his wrist, pulling him closer.  In all previous encounters with the Vala, or his brother Irmo, who showed him Dreams, they had **never touched.  It was an unwritten, unspoken rule, and the shock of having it broken made Elrond resist for a moment.**_

_            Námo pulled harder, and Elrond found himself pinned against the Vala's chest, staring up into those terrible eyes with awe and fear.  The Vala's touch **hurt, burning like nothing ever had before, yet it ignited Elrond's distant Maiar blood into frantic joy.  The Vala traced a finger up the side of the half-Elf's face and murmured a gentle warning.  "This will hurt, Child, but it is necessary."  Their eyes met directly, and Elrond felt the Vala's mind on his.**_

_            Soundless and wordless, a scream welled up in Elrond's chest as the burning in his body made the leap to his mind.  He felt scorched, stretched, and too terribly close to the Vala.  He felt the other mind slide around within his, searching for Ilúvatar knew what.  Finally, it settled and focused, so it no longer burned all of him, just one place in his mind, but the flame was all the more intense in that place, and his scream finally found its way to sound, even if it was still incoherent._

_            Then the touch abruptly withdrew, and Elrond sagged in relief against a body whose burning no longer seemed so bad.  The Vala patted his back, holding him surprisingly soothingly.  Elrond craned his head to fix eyes full of pain-tears on the dark eyes of the Lord of Mandos, and saw compassion and sadness there, and **knew that the Vala had tried to make it as painless as possible, knowing it could never be enough.**_

_            "Wha—what happened?  What'd you do?" he asked, trying to get his voice into working order._

_            The Vala sighed.  "I cannot come to you again, unless Manwë changes his mind about this.  But it is critical that someone in Middle Earth know what is going on.  Thus, I have planted the whole of the Vision in your mind.  It will not come to you all at once, but it will come, and it will guide you, even when you are not aware of it doing so."_

_            Elrond nodded wearily against Námo's chest, eyelids drooping, as his overloaded mind attempted to escape.  The Vala smiled slightly, tenderly.  "I suppose I should let you go, now.  Do wake up, first, though, Elrond.  Your screams have the whole of your household at your bedside trying to wake you.  Even though it is a reaction only a Man would have, I fear Glorfindel is going to have a heart attack if you don't at least open your eyes, soon."_

_            Elrond's lips twitched in wry humor at the thought of his golden-haired friend so beside himself, but felt a pang of remorse for the worry he was inflicting upon him, and resolutely set about waking himself up.  As Elrond faded from the Vala's arms, however, Námo said one last thing to him._

_            "The Valar have no children, Elrond; all of Arda is our collective child.  Aulë has his Dwarves, and Yavanna her plants, but that is all.  Yet, I feel that, of all beings in Arda, you are the one I would call Son, were it up to me to decide such matters."_

_            Elrond smiled sweetly as the Vision shredded around him.  "Truly, I am blessed…"_

            Elrond's eyes opened (betraying how far away he had been from the waking world; Elrond seldom slept with his eyes closed) to find what seemed like every Elf left in Middle Earth in his bedchamber.  It was really only the twins, Glorfindel, and Erestor, but it still made him feel ridiculous.  Especially when he saw the joy on Erestor's customarily serious, bookish face, the near-to-passing-out relief on Glorfindel's noble features, and the twin tear-trails on his sons' usually happy-go-lucky faces.

He wanted desperately to tell them something that would calm all of them down so he could go back to sleep, but the reality of the situation suddenly smacked him in the face.  Well, the head, for it suddenly throbbed painfully, a short flash of the Vision passing before his eyes.

Elrond had shoved everyone aside and made a mad dash for the wash room before he even realized he felt the need to cough up all he had ever eaten in all six-thousand-several-hundred-and-some-odd-years of his life.

*

Elrond sighed, trying to force his wandering attention back to the paper work that kept Imladris running smoothly.  It really wasn't working, though, and Elrond at last allowed his restless gaze to wander across the rest of the contents of the desk at which he sat.

There was his old sword, laid across the desk top, and he knew his spear to be propped against the wall nearby.  He hadn't so much as swung his sword in practice for almost the whole of the Third Age, but today he had felt the need to actually go out and spar.  Glorfindel had been startled, to say the least, when Elrond showed up on the practice fields with Anor only just beginning to rise.  Elladan and Elrohir had been even more shocked when their father had bested both of them and drawn against Glorfindel, despite his atrocious lack of recent practice.  It had been immensely satisfying—for as long as it had lasted.

As the day wore on, however, Elrond had been forced to retire to his working chambers to do the day's work.  He had ordered some food at about mid-day, hoping the change in activities would help focus his wandering mind, but had only picked listlessly at the meal.  It still sat, nearly untouched, on the desk by his elbow.  He really ought to have eaten it, but he wasn't hungry.  In fact, he felt like laying his head upon his desk and sleeping the day away.  And maybe the day after that, too.  He had been feeling that way for the past week, since he had awakened from what had been designated in his mind 'The Vision.'

Elrond, being a healer, recognized the symptoms of deep depression.  He was grateful that at least he wasn't eating; starving he could deal with, but eating until he was the size of the hills he could not.  Of course, he knew that he had perhaps another couple days before everyone who knew him realized that something was very wrong.  As it was, Glorfindel undoubtedly suspected something already.

Elrond just couldn't **wait until his far-too-perceptive mother-by-law arrived.  As much as Elrond respected her—despite the great differences in opinion they had had over the centuries—Elrond sometimes despised her ability to peer into the hearts and minds of others.  He knew her influence over him was limited because of the blood of the Maiar that ran in his veins, but she could still manage to guess at the place to prod him to hurt the most.  Mostly, he was sure, she did it unintentionally, only because her Sight could not tell her enough to know when to back away; that, however, didn't make him feel any better about having to face her soon, with the Vision first and foremost in his mind.**

Originally, Elrond was supposed to be leaving with her for the Havens, then to Valinor, but with these new developments, he knew he could not leave Arda.  Not yet.  As tired as he was, as loud as the Song of the Sea had grown in recent decades, it had all paled into insignificance next to the stunning power of The Vision.  Elrond knew at last that he would not leave Middle Earth.  He would stay and see this thing through to the End.

Literally.

Elrond surfaced from his bleak thoughts to realize that nearly three hours had passed by him without his noticing.  Losing time was not all that uncommon amongst the Elves, but Elrond knew this to be a mannish symptom of his dark mood, and resolutely pushed it aside.  Instead of trying to return to work, though, he turned his thoughts toward the problem of the twins.  They would take the loss of their Grandmother hard, and were also anticipating their father's departure.  They knew their Grandfather had flatly refused to leave Middle Earth, leading to one of the most spectacular fights in a marriage that had been for longer than Elrond had lived.  Of course, they had made up almost immediately, and Celeborn was even coming with Galadriel as far as Imladris, but the twins had been shaken by the recent upheavals in their family.

Elrond wondered what he should do to help them.  The fact that he was staying would help, but both Elladan and Elrohir would miss their Grandmother immensely.  Of course, as soon as his thoughts turned to the twins, they also turned to Arwen.  He wondered if there was any way to take back the bitter things he had said to her at their last parting.  He wondered how Estel was doing.  How was Mithrandir, whose name no longer fit?  How were the Hobbits?  Poor old Bilbo was going out to the Havens—would Frodo also go?  How were Legolas and his bizarre Dwarven friend, Gimli?

"El-**rond!"**

Elrond was shaken from his thoughts by the sudden exclamation of his name right in one sensitive ear.  He clapped a hand over the abused sensory organ, and fixed the offender, Glorfindel, with a look that would have frozen a slavering horde of wargs in their tracks.  Glorfindel, however, merely grinned irreverently at his lord.

"Glorfindel," Elrond stated, his voice taking on a menacing undertone without any effort on the raven-haired Elf's part.  "There was no need to shout right into my ear.  I am **not deaf.  You have obviously been associating with the twins too much, for you have suddenly come to remind me of Elladan on a bad day."**

The Elf with the fantastic deep-golden hair dropped his smile instantly.  "Oh, really?  If you are not deaf, Master Elrond, why then did it take fully five tries to attract your attention?"

Elrond tried not to betray his surprise.  He hadn't heard the other Elf at all, not until nearly having his eardrum blown out.  Deep down, he knew he ought to have heard the other approaching, and the old war horse that still slunk around in the back of Elrond's mind was very unsettled by the idea that he would never even hear the enemy coming.  There was a war coming on, that only he knew about, and he was too preoccupied with the thought of the End to even register the presence of another being in the room.

Frustrated with himself, and not particularly caring if Glorfindel knew it, Elrond slammed a fist down on his desk, growling curses in more languages than most people even knew existed.  One golden hand suddenly covered his, and Elrond looked up into Glorfindel's worried eyes.

"What is the matter that disturbs you so?" the other asked, then leaned over to glance at the document before him.  "Surely it can't be—feast preparations?  Well, that may be tiresome and frustrating, but surely not this much!  Are you worried about leaving the twins to this?"

Elrond almost laughed at the ridiculous question.  "Nay, nay, that is certainly not it.  I won't be leaving the twins to anything."  At Glorfindel's puzzled glance, Elrond sighed and decided to let the cat out.  "I will not be leaving with Galadriel."

Glorfindel's eyes flew wide.  "Honestly?  But Elrond, you told us all months ago that you would be leaving Middle Earth!  Why this sudden change of heart?  Has something happened?"

Elrond sighed, and started to order his thoughts so that he might tell the other Elf of The Vision in a coherent, rational fashion, but stopped suddenly.  He **knew that he could not tell Glorfindel just yet.  Glorfindel had been loyal and true to him for thousands of years, and it hurt to be unable to speak to him, but Elrond realized that the first one he had to tell was Galadriel herself.  Perhaps she would even stay—though, his heart said she would not—but he had to try her first.  After that…Glorfindel would have to be among the first to know; also Celeborn, Thranduil, the twins, and the Kings of Men would need to find out soon.**

Elrond looked back up at his age-old friend.  "Yes, Glor.  Something has happened and nothing will be the same again.  I cannot say it yet, but I **swear to you, I ****will tell you as soon as I may."  He gazed into confused, but assenting, Elven eyes and smiled fleetingly.  Then he took a deep breath.  "Send messages to the Lords of Mirkwood, Rohan, and Gondor.  Invite them to Imladris for a council of great importance.  And try to get a message to Gildor, as well.  Also, if you can think of any way to get representatives of the Dwarves here cordially, please do so.  You might try Gimli, through Legolas of Mirkwood."**

Glorfindel's eyes were wide at the magnitude of the task suddenly laid before him as if it were a simple task anyone could do.  _There, Elrond thought.  __That'll teach you to go yelling in people's ears!_

"My Lord, what am I to tell them this 'important council' is about?  Thranduil, especially, will resent any implication that he is at your beck and call.  And the Dwarves also."

Elrond rose and swept across to the doorway, readying himself for the task of ordering Imladris for all that was to come.  As he reached it though, he turned to face Glorfindel, his face set as stone, and the remembered light of the _silmarilli blazing in his eyes._

"You may tell them to consider the message a war warning," he whispered, and the color ran out of Glorfindel's face, before he scrambled up and shot out the other door, calling for message riders to be brought to him, and a good scribe.  Elrond also left, his mind busy with thoughts of weapons and armor and the last time Imladris had been ready for war.

*

Questions and comments are welcome.  PLEASE review (not that there should be problems getting LotR fans to review)!


	2. The Council of the Three

Ragnarok

The End of Eä

                This is what is known as "**fan fiction," so I obviously don't own the characters or places.  I ****do own the plot, however, and plagiarism will not be tolerated.  If you want to borrow events or post this fic on another site, just ask; I'll probably say yes.**

                This fic starts just prior to the bearers of the Three leaving Middle-Earth.  *ahem!*  That was obviously a spoiler.  If you haven't read all of _The Lord of the Rings and __The Silmarillion, **stay far away from this fic!  I doubt there will be any spoilers for **__The Hobbit.  Also, my absolute favorite character is Elrond, so look to see the Peredhil and their friends all over the place.  THIS IS BOOK-VERSE!_

                This will be a dark fic, violent, probably depressing, and (knowing me) may eventually contain some shounen-ai or slashy undertones.  I currently have *gasp* **no pairings set up for this fic, because the main plot is meant to operate independently to any sex, but please be advised that it may happen.**

A note:  If anyone knows of any good Sindarin or Quenya dictionaries, I would very much appreciate if you'd let me know.  I don't know if I'm ready to try writing in Elvish, yet, but I may eventually feel the urge, and I don't want to be spouting nonsense.  Especially since all I know right now is 'ada' and the prayer to Elbereth, and the meanings of most of the names of people and places.  So maybe I know a little, but help is still appreciated, especially if said dictionaries also have grammar.  Thank you and enjoy my sad little contribution to this amazing fandom!

Part Two

The Council of the Three

Galadriel mentally frowned at the sight of Imladris.  There was something **wrong here, and she couldn't quite figure out what.  Well, not until she saw Celeborn's hand straying toward his sword in the reflexive action of one who has seen too much war.  Once she saw that, however, Galadriel realized what was wrong.**

Imladris's beautiful, graceful architecture and reputation as a place of learning had developed atop what was, in essence, a military stronghold.  Now it seemed to fit its legacy, with weaponry in every alcove, Elves and Men training in every spare courtyard, and the sharp ringing of hammer and anvil loud in the air as weapon and armor smiths churned out their products at a frantic pace.  All the paraphernalia of war was much in evidence, and the implications both frightened and angered Galadriel.

Her Mirror had not seen **this.**

She nodded courteously to the **armed guards that met them at the gate, then swept through, fuming internally, though her face was as serene as ever.  _Is Elrond _****mad?  What is he doing?  Or maybe this is the work of the twins.  But I cannot see even mannish Elladan doing something like this; he has no idea the military strength Imladris actually possesses.**

Galadriel shook off her pensive thoughts when a warm hand came to rest on her shoulder.  She mustered a small smile for Celeborn, who shook his head slightly, telling her wordlessly that her act had not escaped him and that he had no more idea what was happening than she did.  She smiled a truer smile for her husband, and he squeezed her shoulder lightly before letting his hand fall.

Just then, Erestor bustled over to their party and bowed to Celeborn and herself, and Galadriel fixed the dark-haired assistant to Elrond with a level stare which he actually managed to ignore.  This surprised her greatly, since the last time she had so much as glanced at him, the poor Elf had been squirming within moments.  He must have been getting practice at ignoring the unsettling stares of the more powerful members of Elven-kind.  Galadriel felt a moment's sympathy for Erestor; the poor Elf was probably being run ragged by Elrond.

"My Lord, My Lady.  I apologize for the wait, but the Northern Dúnedain contingent is also recently arrived.  Now, if you will step this way, I shall show you to your chambers.  My aides shall escort your people to the guest house."

Galadriel obediently followed the busy Elf, biding her time until she could corner him, albeit inconspicuously, to question him.  However, upon reaching the rooms Galadriel and Celeborn were given whenever they visited Imladris, Erestor bowed again to her.

"Master Elrond sends his regards and requests that the Lady Galadriel join him in the north garden at the nooning hour tomorrow.  He promises that what he has to say will make all clear."  The dark-haired Elf delivered the message in a polite, formal manner, but the pitch of his voice rose slightly on the end, making an interrogative.  Galadriel realized that even those closest to Elrond had no idea what was going on, and obeyed only out of love for and trust in their lord.

Galadriel inclined her head graciously.  "Thank you very much for your time, Erestor, and also for the message.  If you would please convey to Master Elrond may acceptance of his invitation?"

The Elf bowed again.  "I shall, Lady Galadriel."

Galadriel smiled.  "Then I shall bid you goodnight."  She turned to Celeborn.  "Come, Husband.  It has been a long journey, we are both weary, and it has been long since we last rested in a bed as comfortable as those in Imladris."

Celeborn nodded gravely and smiled slightly at Erestor.  "Please also give Elrond our regards and our thanks for his hospitality."  Erestor bowed yet **again, and this time left.  Celeborn chuckled softly once the busy Elf was out of earshot.  "There goes one seriously over-worked Elf.  Unfortunate for him, but I am glad he has become so adept at his duties.  I remember when he was so new to Imladris, he did not even know where the gates were."**

Galadriel smiled.  "Indeed."  She didn't bother to hide her yawn from him.  "But for now, I should like very much to make use of the bed our son-by-law has been kind enough to furnish us with.

Celeborn offered her his arm with a bow and a teasing smile.  "Of course, my Lady.  If I might escort you?"

Galadriel giggled, a sound most at odds with her customarily rigid formality and placed her hand lightly upon his arm.  "Certainly, my Lord," she said, and followed Celeborn into the room, her heart light, despite Middle Earth's seeming to fall apart all around them.

Both Lord and Lady slept easily that night.

*

**            Elrond looked up as Galadriel entered the secluded spot of garden he had chosen for this conversation.  He rose courteously to his feet, exchanged the usual meaningless pleasantries, and offered his powerful mother-by-law a seat.  Galadriel responded to all his formal greetings in kind, but her eyes were sharp upon him, and he felt the perverse desire to cover himself.  He held on, though, sat only after she had, and remained quiet several moments longer.**

            Finally, Galadriel seemed to be getting impatient, and Elrond decided to just out with it…a bit obliquely, of course, in the Elven manner.

            "What has Galadriel's Mirror shown its Lady recently, Mother, mine?"

            Galadriel almost blinked at his apparent non sequitur, and Elrond counted it the last victory he would ever have over his kinswoman.  The ancient Elf recovered quickly and answered in a perfectly cool voice, "Many things the Mirror shows to those who behold it."

            She was hedging, unsure what he was getting at, and intent on playing her cards close to her chest until she found out.  It had made her an astute politician, and a great guardian of her people, but Elrond was himself accomplished in the arena of politics and followed his intuition.

            "Has the Mirror said aught of the Future, Mother?  What of the Now?"

            Galadriel visibly twitched at the question, and Elrond counted an amazing two consecutive victories against her.  "The Mirror shows the remnants of the Shadow in its last strength all over Middle Earth.  Of the Future, the Mirror reveals nothing."

            Elrond leaned forward, feeling his heart chill and his stomach drop.  "Reveals nothing?  Or **shows Nothing?"**

            Galadriel glared at him, and he shivered under the weight of her eyes, counting her a point even as he struggled to regain his equilibrium.  "I, Master Elrond, have not come all this way to quibble with you over semantics.  I should think the journey to the Havens will be most unpleasant if you are in this mood the whole way."

            _Ooh, time for the surprise, Elrond thought.  "I shall not be going to the Havens, Galadriel."_

            Galadriel looked angry, shocked, saddened, and confused all at once.  "What?  Why not, Elrond?  This journey has been planned for months.  Have you yet told Gandalf?  What has he to say of this?"

            Just then, a powerful, if soft, voice came to them.  "Indeed, Elrond.  Were you going to leave out old Gandalf?"

            Elrond turned to the grey-robed person who had entered their piece of garden with a tiny smile.  "Ah, Olórin.  I decided to let the matter of informing you be worked out in the usual way.  For no one, Elf or Man, can often hold a secret from you for long!"  Elrond sobered.  "It is good that you are here now.  Please, sit with us, Gandalf."

            When the Maia had seated himself, Elrond drew a deep breath, then turned back to Galadriel.  "I apologize if you see it as a mere matter of semantics, Galadriel, but to me, the difference between 'to reveal nothing' and 'to show Nothing' is greater than you might know.  Now, have you an answer to my question?"

            The older Elf shook her head.  "Nay, for if I did not perceive the difference when I gazed in the Mirror, I surely cannot now, from memory."

            Elrond sighed.  "So even that much is hidden…"  A flash of pain passed behind his eyes, but this was not The Vision, merely the memory of his conversation with Námo in the guise of a dream.  He looked up at his fellow ring-bearers.  Had he seen the light in his eyes, he would have been as unsettled as Gandalf and Galadriel were.

            "You knew me not in my youth, either of you; for you, Olórin, were yet in Valinor, and I was nobody of importance to Galadriel, save that my family had possession of one of the Cursed Jewels.  But in the First Age, I Saw many things, Visions given me by Námo."  He saw their surprise but plunged on.

            "Since the end of the First Age, I have not had many Visions, for the Valar have seldom reached outside Valinor directly since that time, and what few I have had have come not from Valinor, but from my own perception.  However, several weeks past I received a Vision."  Elrond paused, steeling himself for the telling of one of the most frightening experiences in his whole life.

            "Námo came to me.  He showed me a war, more terrible than anything I remember, save perhaps the War of Wrath, and my memories of that are dim indeed.  I saw—" he cut himself off before he mentioned Gil-galad.  "I saw many things.  Námo then showed to me the Future he Sees for Eä, and it was Nothing.  There **was no future.  Eä is in its Final Days."**

            Galadriel stiffened and Gandalf half-rose, so Elrond allowed a few minutes for his elders to regain their composure, knowing the moment they did, he would be bombarded with difficult to answer questions.  He was not wrong.

            Galadriel asked first.  "If this is true, Master Elrond, how does preparing Imladris for war help?  Surely, it would be best to send the troops you have summoned here back to their homes to be with their families at the End."

            Elrond sighed.  "What Námo sees as a short time to the end may be quite a while.  There are likely years yet.  However, that great war was a much closer piece of the Future. The armies of Middle Earth were massing against great hordes of orcs and other foul beasts.  I do not yet know the source of this darkness—" he cut his eyes up at his companions, hoping he had not lost any credibility, before continuing.  "But it is a darkness that chills me to my bones."

            Gandalf quirked a brow in the silence that followed.  "But Elrond, that did not answer the question.  If the world is ending, why prepare for war?  Will it change anything?"

            Elrond nodded.  "It will change the fates of many Men.  While the Elves have never had any beliefs about judgment after the End, every culture among men, almost without exception, **does.  Men may have more idea of their fates than they realize.  Elvenkind has never produced any truly evil individuals, but Mankind has.  The hearts of Men may be subverted for any number of vile purposes, though all purposes work to Ilúvatar's will in the end."**

Elrond sighed.  "Perhaps it is the blood of Men flowing in by veins that makes me feel so, but I do not believe we should abandon Men to whatever evil would seek to make use of them.  It is the duty of elder siblings to look after the younger, thus it is the duty of the elder Children of Ilúvatar to aid the Aftercomers.  We would be remiss to leave Mankind without any support."

Gandalf nodded solemnly.  "You may be correct, Master Elrond.  However, I do not know that anyone—Elf, Maia, or Vala—has the right, or even the ability, to interfere with the fate of even one Man.  Eru made them different from Elves for a reason, though it be hidden from us."

Elrond felt a spike of anger lance out of the Mannish portions of his being, though he did not let it show.  "Do we then have the right to heal?  Perhaps those whose lives we have struggled for were meant to die, and we had no right to cleanse and close their wounds, to feed and shelter them.  Perhaps the very act of helping another living being to go on living is wrong."

Elrond shook his head slowly, negating all he had just said.  "I cannot believe that, Olórin.  You yourself said you doubted the ability of any being to alter the fate of even one Man.  If the Elves attempt to help Men resist the temptations the Enemy places before them, then it must be part of Ilúvatar's designs."

Galadriel raised one eyebrow expressively.  "Elrond, just what enemy do you think to face with this army?  Men's temptations lie within their beings; no army can stave off the forces at work inside the hearts of Men.  At most, your forces will remove some external sources from which those dark promises come."

Elrond nodded sadly. "No matter how little it may be, we must do all that we can.  Well, those who choose to.  I will tell the armies why they have been summoned shortly after they all arrive.  After that—at least of those Elves who look to me to lead them—they shall be free to stay or go as they please.  I know that not all the Firstborn are as tolerant of Men as I.  I seem to have a personal stake in the matter, after all."

Gandalf sighed.  "There is still the matter of the Three to address.  Elrond, what would you have done with Vilya?  It has no power, now, save as a symbol only.  It should not matter whether it stays or goes, yet I would have even the symbols of such a power taken to Valinor to rest under the eyes of the Valar."

Elrond nodded.  "As would I, ordinarily.  However, I have long been its bearer and—"  Elrond smiled wryly.  "This will doubtless sound disturbing, but Vilya is precious to me.  It was given me by my King, to guard and keep until the appointed time.  I cannot help but feel that that time is not yet."  He sighed.  "It would be best to send it to Valinor, perhaps to give it to Bilbo to ease his suffering on his journey.  And yet…I cannot do it, Olórin.  Not yet."

Galadriel smiled.  "Gil-galad is still your King, Elrond?  After all this time?  Dear to your heart and to the hearts of all Elves he was, but is this not excessive?"

Elrond shrugged.  "I cannot even begin to explain it to you.  Indeed, I have yet to explain it to myself, and I have been trying the whole of this Age!  But I feel the time…just is not right, not yet.  Soon though; perhaps very soon."

Galadriel shook her head.  "It would be a shame to separate the Three at this late date.  If you will not reconsider, perhaps I shall give Nenya to Celeborn to remember me by."

Elrond cocked a skeptical eyebrow at her.  "If he cannot remember you by **now, my Lady, after a marriage lasting almost as long as all of Elven history, then I doubt any trinket will help."**

Gandalf chuckled.  "Indeed!  To be unable to remember to remember the love of one's life would indicate a mind and heart that retain as much as a pot filled with holes!"

Elrond shook his head.  "That's 'a mind like a steel sieve,' Olórin.  Perhaps, I ought to worry about your memory, also?  You are by far the oldest here."

Gandalf smiled through his beard.  "That may be, Master Elrond.  But then, perhaps I should be skeptical of advice from one so young as yourself.  Why, compared to even Galadriel, here, you are but a baby!"

Galadriel laughed at the look on her son-by-law's face, as if he had swallowed something extremely sour.  "True enough, Gandalf!" she exclaimed, but regained her composure quickly.  "If Vilya and Nenya are to stay in Middle Earth, what, I wonder, shall Gandalf the White do with Narya?  Shall he bear it across the Sea?  Or shall he leave it here?  And if he would leave it, who should he leave it with?"

            Gandalf smiled.  "Peace, my friend.  I shall leave Narya with her sisters.  However, who I shall give it to shall remain secret, for I do not know that I like the thought of the Three all in places where they might be discovered.  Perhaps 'tis naught but a remnant of the old paranoia, but I would rest better in the West knowing I did some feeble something to protect my old companion."

            Elrond could not help but agree.  His own Ring Bearer's paranoia had been starting to protest, also, though he could think of no reason why it should.  Besides, as soon as Gil-galad returned, Elrond would return Vilya to its rightful owner.

            Elrond rose.  "Well, that takes care of all the matters I can think of.  Did either of you still have questions?"

            Gandalf stepped in front of Elrond suddenly, peering closely at him.  Elrond recoiled from the sudden close proximity, then stiffened as he felt a 'touch' on his mind.  He knew fighting would not help, but he remembered too well the painful joy of Námo's touch, and all of his mental defenses sprang to readiness.  It was something all Elves were trained to do from a young age, and Elrond was quite adept at using his mind to fight off intruders into it.

            Gandalf's touch suddenly vanished, and Elrond managed to shake off his physical paralysis to glare at the Maia.  However, Gandalf was just staring in awe at Elrond, who found it a most unsettling thing to have a Maia gazing at him as though he was a Vala.

            "Elrond, my old friend," the wizard began.  "I can see the burden this Vision has placed on you.  I know you are fighting a battle with a deep, almost Fading depression.  But know this: I know of none who has been linked directly mind-to-mind with Námo, outside the Valar and the Maiar, who has come through intact.  And while your mind currently feels and appears raw and bleeding and dizzy with shock, you have survived such a Touch, and will have gained much strength from it, by the time your mind is healed."

            The old wizard gripped Elrond's arm tightly, confidence in his eyes.  "Have faith in your strength, Peredhel, for you possess more of it than you realize."

            Elrond nodded, feeling uncommonly hesitant.  Had it really been such a big thing to be touched by the Vala?  Certainly he had never done it before, and it had hurt enough that he doubted he could do it again, but surely he was not the **first!  All the firsts had surely been taken long before he was born, late in the First Age.**

            Galadriel smiled at him from over Gandalf's shoulder.  "I suppose that explains why I have been so unable to read you today.  If some of the Vala's energy lingers still in you, then there would be no way for me to look into your mind."

            Elrond was surprised to realize that he was not upset that Galadriel had been trying to get into his head the whole time.  Actually, he thought, if he had had the power to do so, he might have been looking right back.

            Galadriel blew out a wistful sigh.  "Still, I wish I had been able to see some of your vision.  The Mirror shows me nothing, and I would at least know a little of the danger I must abandon my husband to."  Her eyes were full of sorrow and worry, and Elrond found he could only guess what it must be like for her to be leaving Celeborn after all this time, especially knowing now that the End was upon them.  But he did understand why she would not even think of not going to Valinor.  If Elrond had been just a little older and more tired of the world, he would not have reconsidered, even having experienced the Vision.

            Elrond stepped past the silently thinking Maia to touch his mother-by-law's arm.  He swallowed, not sure he really wanted to make this offer, but forced the words from his mouth.  "If you wish, I will try to show you what I can."

            Galadriel hesitated, then shook her head.  "I will not ask it of you.  I know you are hurt still, if Gandalf's words bear any resemblance to the truth.  Besides, I am bowing out of the affairs of this world.  I imagine that I will hear all I need to know of the End once I am in the Blessed Realm."

            Elrond nodded his acceptance of her answer, feeling relief lift his spirits more than anything had in days.  Galadriel smiled at him, then turned to exit their secluded patch of garden.  "I must now speak with Celeborn.  He should know of this, and soon."  She turned away and moved on soundless feet out of the garden.

            Gandalf, drew himself upright.  "I have some matters to attend to also, Elrond."  He placed a hand on Elrond's upper arm, eyes ablaze with some powerful emotion.  "Have faith, Peredhel, and take heart.  Elves and Men have always helped others, and I doubt that Eru would have made such a universal compulsion if it were not meant to be followed.  Nothing that has been done and nothing that has happened has done so without a purpose.  Believe that, and raise your spirits.  You are of no use to anybody as a depressed shadow of yourself."

            Elrond nodded and drew himself up.  "I shall try," he said seriously.  "Even if I fear the power to lift this gloom is beyond me."  Gandalf smiled slightly, then vanished into the trees as silently as any Elf, leaving Elrond alone.  The Half-Elf sighed and ran a hand through the loose part of his hair, straightening his robes with the other.

            Now he faced the greatest challenge of all: figuring out how he was going to tell his household.  Telling the armies would be much easier, and he had far longer to prepare for it, two to three months, in fact.  But telling his sons, Glorfindel, and Erestor what he had been keeping from them would be a painful task.

*

                A few notes: Yes, my Elrond does respect (and fear) Galadriel.  Who wouldn't?  Those fics that depict her as evil, or Elrond as hating her annoy me, so don't expect to find that here.

                All the blah-by-law things are basically blah-in-laws.  It just sounds cooler and more proper as 'by-law.'  (Far be it from anyone to be improper before Galadriel!  Poor Erestor is giving himself back problems with all his bowing.  Good thing he lives with a healer of such skill as Elrond!)

                The cast for this fic will be expanding, even as a few characters start dropping out in the next few parts.

                Comments and questions are taken gratefully!  Feel free to post (or email) anything you wish to (within reason)!  Beware, though.  It actually snowed here in Arizona, and I'm a lizard who doesn't appreciate the cold, so flames will be laughed at and used as kindling in my fireplace!

                Bye bye!

                —Akuma no Tsubasa


End file.
